From Camp With Love
by apiratesmile
Summary: Apollo currently has five children at Camp Half-Blood. Parent's Day is coming up soon and they are desperate to bring their father down to Earth. Hope you Enjoy :
1. Chapter 1

"All right wake up you brats," Martin yawned, "I booked us an early archery practice."

"You have fun with that."

"Yes. You go on and tell us how it goes."

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

The jibes continued to come from his brothers and sisters, some muffled by their pillows and others too incoherent from sleep.

"Scout," Martin snapped at the bed closest to them, "as one of the councilors you should be helping me—Scout?"

"For the love of the gods Martin its 5 am," she moaned, "I haven't seen what 5 am looks like since second grade."

"Maybe you all have forgotten but I haven't," Martin barked at them, "Parent's Day is coming up in a week you brats."

"So," growled Sylvester pulling his pillow tighter around his head.

"So what is it going to look like to Father when he sees you trying to shoot at a target and instead you hit a councilor."

"I think you are confusing us with Percy," Casey grumbled turning over in her bed.

"Be that as it may I will not have you all disgracing our Father by being too lazy to partake in archery."

"It is not lazy to want to get eight hours of sleep, Marty," Jasper sighed tugging his blanket closer.

"Scout," Martin began to plead, "tell them to get up**."**

"Why the heck are you so worried about Parent's Day Martin? I think what Mr. D meant by parents were our human parents," Scout tried reasoning, hoping to get in a few more hours of sleep.

"Exactly," Sylvester agreed, "the only time any of us half-bloods see our immortal parent is either when the camp is in danger or an occasional birthday."

"Father came to one of your birthdays?" Jasper asked indignantly, "how come he has never come to one of mine!"

"That's not the point Jazz," Sylvester sighed with exasperation.

"The point," Martin butted in, "is that we be prepared if he does come. We want him to be proud of us don't we?"

"When did you become such a daddy's boy," Casey quipped.

"I am not a daddy's boy Cassandra."

"Call me that again and let's see what happens," Casey warned her eyes still closed.

"Fine then _Cassandra_ I—gah! Get off of me you brat!"

"Casey," Scout sighed slipping out of the warm comfort of her bed, "we talked about the biting thing."

"He had it coming," she defended wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Since we are all awake anyway," Scout said rubbing the back of her head, "we mine as well take advantage of the empty field. Even if we are not impressing anyone, we still need to stay sharp for the 'capture the flag' game tonight."

"If we must," Sylvester granted staring up at the ceiling his eyes halfway closed.

* * *

Scout took in a deep breath of air as they walked out toward the targets. Despite all her moaning and complaining she relished the crisp morning feeling. It reminded her of her mother somehow.

"All right kiddies," she called to her siblings, "be sure to stretch before you start. We really don't need another pulled muscle."

"Would you let that go," Sylvester grumbled under his breath.

Soon everyone was aiming at the straw targets, each of their arrows finding the mark. Scout's movements were relaxed and precise, each arrow gliding perfectly through the air. Her body, just like her siblings, was made perfectly for archery, slim and lithe with a perfect posture. Her arms were long, thin and strong and moved with quick reflexes.

"Hel-lo," Jasper breathed as seven of the Aphrodite kids glided over to them.

"Men," Casey sighed rolling her eyes.

"Good morning darlings," tinkled the leader moving gracefully up to Scout.

"Morning Fleur," Scout nodded confused, "you are all up awfully early."

"Well so are you my dear Scout," Fleur chirped, "we did not expect anyone to be out here so early. We came here to practice our new dance routine."

"You practice dancing on the archery field," Sylvester asked disgusted.

"It's the only place big enough," Fleur explained.

"Well I am afraid ladies-ahem excuse- and Jay and Mason—we are using the field," Martin said.

"But we have to practice," Anastasia pouted, "we are performing for the parents next week."

"Well so are we," Casey replied crossing her arms firmly, "deal with it."

"Now really Scout you must control that sister of yours," Fleur frowned, "rudeness is not very becoming."

"Oh I don't know. I think it's pretty cute."

Fleur scrunched her nose, "Scout there is really no hope for your sister but you at least have the chance to be pretty."

"Really? Only a chance," Scout asked in mock concern.

Jasper joined in, "Fleur's right Scout, you're too cool to be pretty."

"What a curse," Scout sighed.

Casey patted her back, "it could be worse Scout. You could be beautiful and then where would you be?"

"Honestly, you Apollo's never take anything seriously."

"Eh," Sylvester shrugged, "life's too short to be serious about it. I mean come on none of us are going to make it out alive anyway."

"I don't even know why I waste my time talking to you," Fleur sniffed.

"I think it's our cheerful disposition."

"Fine we're leaving," she stomped, "but I'm telling Mr. D."

"Why? Don't you have your own studio?"

"It's too small," she called walking away.

"That's what she said!" Jasper burst out giggling.

"You just couldn't help yourself," Casey sighed shaking her head.

Scout checked her watch, "looks like breakfast is about to start."

"Good I'm starving," Sylvester said rubbing his stomach.

"You haven't said much Martin," Scout said to her brother in concern as they walked, "is something wrong?"

"It's nothing," he said biting his thumb.

She did not get a chance to question him further as they sat down and the plates were filled.

"Morning Percy," she nodded getting in the offering line behind him. He turned to her with a smile.

"Hey Scout. What's up?"

"Not much," she shrugged giving him an evil smile, "just curious about your progress with Annabeth over the summer."

Instantly, Percy's cheeks turned a beat red, "how did you know?"

"I see things," she said mysteriously.

"Oh Styx you're not a prophet like your dad are you?" He asked weakly.

"Ha-ha. Nah I just see the way you look at her. Desperate wouldn't be the word I would use but it is pretty close."

"You know what," he said annoyed, "I think you are still just sore that I broke your bow last year."

"Bad move," Jasper side whispered as he walked past them, "she still hasn't gotten over that."

She would have gone into a long rant on his irresponsibility and clumsiness had he not side stepped to show her it was her turn to make an offering.

With a sigh a she pushed in a slice of toast, "Apollo please accept my offering" she said.

N_ot that I care either way_.

She knew it was not very original to feel bitter toward her immortal parent, but she didn't care. He didn't have to sit there during Thanksgiving and listen to her grandparent's rant on her mother. He didn't have to go home every winter and live under the same roof as her stuck-up, model citizen step-father and his miniature clone Alexander, her older step-brother. And he certainly did not have to watch her mother handle it all with a brave face even though she was practically dying inside.

Truly, the only thing she could thank him for was her half-siblings. Martin was the oldest at fifteen, and while she often gave him hell, she loved him. Sylvester and Jasper was twelve, both a year younger than her (Dad had gotten busy that year). Casey was the youngest of them at eleven and she was such a tomboy you just couldn't help but love her.

It was funny but all, save Scout, had the trade mark golden curls. Her tresses were long and dark like her mother's and she shared with her the same amber eyes. She took pride in looking like her mother, it in some way made her feel less attached to Him.

"Ahem good morning to you all," Mr. D greeted half-heartedly, " I would like to start off by saying—WOULD YOU SHUT UP YOU PUNKS—right where was I? Oh yes I would like to announce some rules about next week's Parent's Day." He said the word like he was announcing that was the day the world would end.

"First off all of your parents have been informed of the date although why anyone would want to visit you leeches is beyond me. A majority of your parents are unaware of your status as mutts—excuse me 'half –bloods'-- it is to remain that way. The Mist should keep most of the bumbling sacks of skins—excuse me your parents—in the dark. However, though it is a shame, I have no control over your mouths and so for once in your miserable lives THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK. I will not have any of you indicating the presence of gods in the camp. For all some of your parents know this is a happy, care-free summer camp." He waived his hand and sat down signaling that they were once again allowed to talk.

"I really hope my parents don't bring my sisters," Jasper said setting his chin on top of his folded arms, "there are nine of them now."

"Zeus," Sylvester said in surprise, "how the heck do you get nine sisters?"

"I would have thought your parents would have explained it to you by now Sly," Jasper smiled, "but if you really want to know…"

Sylvester waved his hands dramatically, "No I'm good. But you have nothing to complain about. I'm an only child, my parents expect me to be perfect. They will be watching my every move."

"Ha," Casey said puffing out her chest, "I've got you both nailed. I have two moms watching me."

"Euw," the two boys said wrinkling their noses.

"You have no idea."

"Well I don't know what you are all complaining about. I can't wait to have my parents over and my little sister," Martin smiled, seeming in a better mood then before.

"Yeah. Yeah Martin," Sylvester sighed waving a hand, "no need to go sticking your perfect childhood into our faces."

"I wouldn't call it perfect," Martin said slowly.

"How about you Scout? Are you excited for your parents?"

Scout looked up from her eggs and thought about it for a moment, "well I can't wait to see my mom but I could go a lifetime without seeing Marcus and Alexander."

Casey was finally the one to speak about the elephant in the room, "so do you think he will come?"

"I don't see why he would," said Sylvester pushing away his Fruit Loops.

"Don't be stupid, Sly, of course he is coming," Martin growled.

"What makes you so sure?" Jasper asked bitterly.

"Because he is our father," Martin answered firmly.

"Being our father has never affected him before," Sylvester pointed out, "I doubt he even knows our names. The guy has hundreds of kids, why would he concern himself with us?"

"Because I am going to make him come to see us," Martin revealed leaning in closer to them ,"I have a plan."

"It sounds stupid already," said Jasper propping his head on his hand.

Martin chose to ignore the comment and continued on, "he can't ignore us if we have something that he needs."

Casey looked him over confused, "what could we possibly have that the Sun God would need?"

"His car. I'm going to steal it."

"You're not very original are you," Scout deadpanned.

"What? It's perfect! He needs that car," Martin explained.

Scout let out a deep sigh waiting for some kind of patience. It didn't come.

"Martin let me tell you a story. Stop me if you've heard it before. There once was an incredibly stupid boy who found out he was the son of the Sun God. One day he begged his father to let him drive his sun chariot and so then yaddah-yaddah-yaddah the boy loses control of the chariot, burning up the Earth and forcing Zeus to turn him into lightening barbecue."

"Hmm I think I have heard it before, however, it was a little less crude."

"But I think you got the gist."

"Very well then," Martin stood looking unperturbed, "it is on to plan B!"

"You're kidding," Sylvester mocked, "and Plan A was so encouraging."

"Enough Martin," Scout ordered, she was getting a headache and it wasn't even noon, "we're not stealing anything. We are just going to have to wait and see what happens on Parent's Day."

"Hey did Artemis suddenly give up on the whole virgin stint," Casey asked staring at the table next to them.

"No why do you—," Sylvester turned behind him, "Oh."

Sitting at what was usually an empty table was at least twenty girls talking among themselves.

"Wow," whistled Jasper, "she must really be making up for lost time."

Suddenly the girl sitting at the head of the table looked up catching Sylvester's eyes. Immediately, she frowned and turned back to talking with the girl beScoute her.

"Geez you would think they would me more friendly to their cousins."

"Well it is not exactly like Father and Artemis are the best of friends."

"Can you blame him?"

"Man you guys are thick," Annabeth sighed, walking past them, "those are the members of the Hunt. Artemis's pure maidens."

"That makes more sense," Martin nodded.

"Come on," Scout stood, "we have music in ten minutes."

"Perfect," Martin smiled, "I can tell you about plan B on the way there."

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

Martin picked at a scab on his knee for a minute, his forehead crinkled in thought. He needed a plan. He needed a good plan. One that was so brilliant the Sun God would not know what hit him. But his mind stayed blank. _Oh to be a child of Athena_.

"Oh no," Sylvester mocked running a towel through his wet blonde hair, "Martin is thinking again."

Jasper walked up behind him, a towel adorned casually over his shoulders. "That's never a good sign."

The two had just come back from swimming in the lake, enjoying the sunny morning. They were far too busy splashing each other to notice the countless girls that passed by with giggles and deep blushes.

"Laugh all you want," Martin waved them off, "but I will get Father here."

"I don't get why this is such a big deal for you, Marty," Sylvester sighed flopping onto his bunk, "he hasn't cared before, why should here care now?"

Martin stood up furiously his voice rising with each syllable, "because he is our father and fathers are supposed to care about their children!"

"I dunno," Jasper shrugged, "my step-father doesn't care squat about what I do long as I'm home by eight."

"Listen you two this is imp—"

"Run. Casey. Run!" Scout shouted, her voice carrying into the cabin.

The boys watched in quiet fascination as Casey slid into the cabin followed closely by Scout. Without an explanation she slammed the door shut, quickly latching bolts and locks that the boys were sure had not been their this morning.

"Scout," Martin asked slowly, wearily eyeing her back, "what did you two do?"

Immediately, his sister turned pressing her body guiltily against the door.

"Absolutely nothing."

Jasper nodded in mock understanding before turning to Martin, "didn't you know that is what you are supposed to do when you are doing nothing, Marty? Why Sly and I crash into a cabin and lock the door almost once a week."

"Oh shut it," Martin snapped now turning his attention to the youngest of his siblings.

"Casey what did you do?"

"All right I socked him. But he was totally asking for it," Casey grumbled sulking in a corner.

Martin ran a hand through his hair in frustration, "you punched somebody?"

"But he had it coming," Casey repeated, thinking this a perfectly justifiable excuse.

Martin opened his mouth again to speak but a loud thud banged on the door, echoing through the cabin.

"Zeus," Sylvester swore flinching at the sound, "who the heck did you knock out?"

"Andre," she answered weakly.

All three boys swore at once.

"Hey now," Scout interrupted, "you all know there isn't a kid in the Ares cabin that doesn't deserve a broken nose."

"You broke his nose," Jasper exclaimed, dragging a hand down his face, "Styx, Casey why didn't you just save yourself the trouble and go drown in the lake."

"You probably would have been better off," Sylvester agreed.

"Relax we will just hole up here until—" Scout winced as the door was rammed into again, "until they lose interest. I mean they are bound to get bored eventually."

"Oh I think they will have gotten in here long before that," Martin calculated.

"Not helping!"

The door blew forward again bending during each thump. The locks tried desperately to hold to their posts but the attacker proved to be stronger, bending the metal until they were disfigured and useless.

"Geez," Scout murmured through gritted teeth, "what are they using, a ram?"

Sylvester peered through one of the side windows and shook his head, "Nope. They are all taking turns running at the door. From the looks of it the whole damn cabin is outside."

"We're going to die," Casey whaled, "and it will be my entire fault."

"Yep," Jasper agreed distractedly. He and Martin were pushing, unsuccessfully, on one of the dressers, hoping to make a barricade.

"It wasn't her fault," Scout grunted, leaning hard against the bulging door. "Andre was the one who started it. I saw the whole thing from the archery field. He said something to her and then all of a sudden she just flew at him. Kid didn't stand a chance, even though he had fifty pounds on her."

"What did he say to you Casey?" Martin asked. He and Jasper were now sweating from the effort of pushing the dresser.

"It must be bolted to the floor," Jasper moaned.

Casey looked up from her corner tears streaming down her normally feisty features. She sniffled for a moment wiping quickly at her eyes.

"He said—he said I was probably nothing but a disappointment to my father and that was why he never came to visit the cabin. He said maybe if he had kids he could be proud of he would actually come to parent's day. Andre said his dad was coming."

"Oh Casey," Scout sighed, "you really let that get to you?"

Scout let out a grimace as the door jerked into her back.

"Hey you cowards come on out and face us like warriors—oh wait I forgot whose kids I was talking to—hey kiddies come out here and cower before your superiors!"

"Oh give it a rest Clarisse," Sylvester shouted through the window, "we all know you can't even spell superior much less be superior."

"That all you got pretty boy. Cause I got all day," she hollered back spreading her arms out menacingly.

Sylvester looked beside himself with happiness at the open invitation, "Don't you need to have a license to be that ugly."

"Really, Sly," Scout shook her head, "that was the best you could do?"

"Wait , wait I got another one. Hey Clarisse! I would call you an idiot but that would just be insulting to all the stupid people."

"I think I'm just going to punch you for that one," Jasper growled in disgust.

"I'm not done. I'm not done," he giggled, "Ohhh Claaaaaarrrrrriiisse—"

"Shut up you moron," she screamed slamming down her foot, "why don't you all come out here and face us!"

"You know you guys are in range why aren't you running away in fear from our arrows?" Sylvester asked.

Clarisse guffawed at the question, "the Ares cabin does not know the meaning of fear!"

Sylvester nodded in understanding, "of course you don't but then again you don't know the meaning of a lot of words."

"Sylvester," his siblings yelled trying to shut him up.

"What?" He shrugged, "I thought that was a pretty good one."

"All right," Scout finally said, "I think I have a plan."

"I think I have a better one," Jasper interjected, "let's give them Sly and when they are ripping him apart we'll make a break for it."

"I don't think I like that idea very much," Sylvester grumbled crossing his arm.

"Maybe we'll use that as plan B," Scout said slowly, "my plan is to keep their attention on the cabin door while two of us slide out one of the windows in the back and surprise them from behind."

"I would like to go with Scout's plan, please," Sylvester stated.

"And here I was giving you the chance to be a hero," Jasper shook his head, "you ungrateful maggot."

Martin slipped over to the chest where they stashed their equipment, bows and arrows were quickly passed out. Casey, Jasper and Sylvester stationed themselves by the windows facing the Ares kids. It was decided that Martin and Scout, the two best shots, should be the ones that take Clarisse and her gang from behind.

"Hey you brats did you hear me!? I said come out and face us. If you think you can punch out one of my brothers than you have another thing coming to you!"

"Hey Clarisse have you ever considered doing some soul-searching—who knows you might actually find one."

Even the Ares camp could not help but wince at that one.

"That should keep their attention," Martin whispered to his sister as they slid out the narrow window in the back cabin. Scout could only nod as she landed beside him.

They moved swiftly and quietly through the light brush surrounding the Apollo cabin. It was not until they reached the cabin's shadow did they pause for a moment.

"So what now?"

"We are going to need to move into the tree line behind them. If we can get into those trees, not only will we have the advantage but we will be shielded from view so they won't know our numbers."

"Alright. Wait a moment."

The two watched as Andre and a few of his brothers moved in on the door again. The area surrounding them echoed with a sickening crunch.

"We need to go now," she whispered urgently.

But Martin shook his head, "they are not distracted enough. If we move now someone is going to spot us."

"And if we don't move now," Scout countered, "there will only be two Apollo kids living in that cabin."

"Is that all you got," they could hear Sylvester call, "Mitch you look sweaty in all that leather, why don't you slip into something more comfortable…like a coma!"

"All right," Martin breathed, "NOW."

In an instant they scampered across the open grass, their steps quiet and almost ghost like. They were in the tree line before anyone could say boo. Careful as to not rustle the branches, they lightly climbed a pine, only stopping when they were sure they were hidden behind the needles.

"Ready," Scout asked in quiet anticipation, cocking her bow till the string strummed at her ear.

"You bet," he answered his bow ready in a similar stance.

"FIRE!"

Before Clarisse and her gang even had time to blink there was a volley of arrows at their feet. With pure instinct moving them, the Ares kids scattered completely unprepared for the attack. Martin and Scout were careful to keep up a steady flow of arrows to keep them running.

"You can stop now Martin," Scout said lowering her bow. Her eyes were sharp and alert, scanning the area for another possible attack.

"Well that was fun," Martin smiled wiping a line of sweat from his brow.

"Nothing like human targets to keep you in shape," she smiled.

* * *

"Styx, I have been waiting for this day for years," Mr. D smiled leaning forward in his chair, "the day I finally get to kick some of you brats out of here."

All five of the Apollo kids stood in front of him in one neat line. They refused to bow their heads in shame, making sure they met Mr. D's eyes with quiet rebellion. No one dared to voice an excuse; they all stood and accepted their fate. Whatever it may be.

"Expelling them seems a little harsh, sir," Chiron said staring contemplatively at them, "besides it would be an insult to Apollo to refuse to house his children."

Mr. D stared at his Diet Coke for a moment, swirling it around in its glass.

"I doubt Apollo's wrath would be half as much of a pain to me as his children," he growled finally taking a sip.

"I think I would much rather see ole hot-head get his pretty pants in a bunch than having to deal with his excuses for offspring," he said lightly, his features showing he was seriously entertaining the thought of kicking them out.

"Kicking out his children would only give Apollo the pleasure in knowing his kids are too much to handle, sir," Chiron worded carefully.

"Oh please," Mr. D grumbled, "Pretty Boy doesn't care what I do with his kids."

"How would you know?!" barked Martin, Mr. D had hit a sore mark. The room's occupants snapped their attention toward him. Instantly, he blushed under the sudden scrutiny of the god.

"I mean," He said softly, "I am sure Father would—"

But Mr. D waved him off, "Oh please kid I've heard that line a million and one times. Stop fooling yourself and look at the big picture here, brat. Daddy doesn't care as long as the camp keeps you alive so your mummies don't call him up and complain. Trust me, munchkin, Apollo doesn't like kids in his hair. He isn't much more than a kid himself."

Martin was livid now. He looked ready to speak but, in the interest of keeping him from becoming human wine, Scout stepped up in front of him.

"Mr. D," she said calmly, making a deep effort to hide her inner turmoil for apologizing over something that was no their fault, "we are sorry for the trouble that we have caused. There seemed to be a sort of misunderstanding between our two cabins. It will not happen again." The last part was spoken tersely, more to her siblings than to the god.

"Oh very well," Mr. D griped, "but if something like this happens again I will make you wish I had kicked you out today."

"Understood," she nodded blankly.

As quickly as she could she rounded up her siblings, pushing them out of the main cabin and into the sunlight.

"You didn't have apologize," Martin growled, kicking at a stick on the grass, "we did nothing wrong."

"You think so," she said her voice livid, "well we may have been in the right but I really don't think Mr. D cared about that. All he saw when we walked in was a chance to kick us out of here and send us back to our families. And let me tell you something, I would rather been set on fire than have to spend the next four years of my life living under the same roof as my family. So yeah I think did need to apologize, Martin!"

The rest of her siblings remained quiet, silently following the two back to their cabin.

"Martin," Scout stopped when they reached the door, "I really don't care if Dad comes or not to this Parent's Day, he is just a guy I have seen twice in my life. But you guys are my family. And I would have apologized to Mr. D for breathing if that was what needed to be done to keep us together."

Martin stared at her back for a few moments before turning his gaze to the sun, a contemplative look darkening his face.

* * *

Sorry it has taken me so long to update! I hope you guys have enjoyed it and let me know how you feel. I always love reading reviews!

Thanks for Reading


	3. Chapter 3

A big thank you to all of you who have reviewed, they really do help.

Enjoy!

* * *

"What word rhymes with purple?"

Casey slowly looked up from her game of solitaire. She thought for a moment, flipping the ace of spades between her fingers.

"Absolutely nothing," she finally answered laying her card down with a pleased look.

"That can't be right," Sylvester sighed strumming a few absent notes on his guitar.

"Trust me," Casey said, staring at the card in her hand.

"Well damn," he muttered under his breath as he crossed out words on the piece of paper beside him, "now what am I suppose to do."

"Read me the lyrics," she said thoughtfully, "maybe I can help."

"Hey that's a good idea," Sylvester smiled. Gently, he plucked out a soft rhythm from the guitar letting the notes rise and fall before adding his voice to the music.

_I see blue when I look at you_

_You remind me of the deep navy sea_

_Your movements so wild and oh so free_

_Everyday you're a different hue_

_I see blue when I look at you_

_I feel red when I talk to you_

_My heart beats fast and my cheeks go cherry_

_My hands feel heavy like they're too much to carry_

_I don't know how you cast your voodoo_

_But I feel red when I talk to you_

_I could be green or yellow or even chartreuse _

_Any color you want for the feelings you induce_

_I could be ivory or mauve or least of all purple_

The strumming came to a halt and Sylvester looked up with irritation.

"See I have nothing to rhyme with purple. Why on earth would no body think to come up with a word that—why are you laughing?"

"That's your song," she howled falling on her back from laughter, "that is what you came up with?! It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. 'I see blue when I look at you' where did you come up with that?"

Sylvester was indignant, "I thought it was quite good up until the purple part."

"Geez, Sly, that was more sappy than all the trees in Vermont," Casey cried still laughing.

"Now I remember why I never share my music," he grumbled.

"Oh that just made my day," Casey sighed with content, wiping a tear from her eye.

"I don't know why I bother," he moaned falling dramatically on his bed.

Unfamiliar silence fell on the cabin as he sulked. That was strange. It was never this quiet in the Apollo cabin. Usually there was singing or laughter or talking or sometimes the occasional crying but now it was just silent.

"Hey Casey, where the heck is everybody," Sylvester jerked up looking around.

"Showing the newbie around," Casey said absently, her full attention back on the card game.

"What newbie," he questioned standing up, "nobody told me we were getting a new camper."

"Martin did last night," Casey said frowning as she looked for a place for the Jack of hearts, "but I think you were too busy making goo goo eyes at that Hermes girl."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he blushed.

"Like I care," she said rolling her eyes.

"How come you didn't go to meet the new kid?"

Casey's head jerked up from the cards a venomous look on her face but as soon as it appeared it was hidden by a blank expression, "no reason."

"Right," Sylvester said sarcastically.

"Why would I want to show some newbie around the camp all day," she snapped, "it's right on the bottom of my to-do list, just a step below having a staring contest with Medusa."

"It looks like somebody is suffering from youngest child syndrome," he smirked coming to stand behind her, "little Casey is no longer the baby of the family."

Without even blinking her hand shot up grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down to eye level. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him with eyes a fiery red, "I dare you to call me little Casey again."

"I'm good," Sylvester squeaked.

"Good boy," she smiled, releasing his shirt from her iron grip.

"And this is the cabin where you will be sleeping," Martin's voice boomed as he walked into the room.

Casey and Sylvester's head turned as their siblings entered. Scout was followed in by a girl a head shorter than her.

"Guys meet Matilda," Scout said stepping to the side to let them get a better look at her.

Sylvester plastered a winning smile onto his face and held out a hand, "Hello there Matil—what the—I mean h-hi."

Matilda glared back at him with arms crossed and a killer frown. She was not exactly what a person would expect a child of the sun god to look like. For starters her skin was so white it made the dead look like they had a rosy complexion. While the roots of her hair showed she was clearly blonde the rest was bad-dye- job black. She was covered head to toe in black, which only served to make her even paler. The plaster of mascara and eye liner did not help much either.

Casey took one look at her and frowned, "you have got to be kidding me."

"Casey," Scout nudged her, "be nice."

"Fine,' she growled before slipping on a smile that looked like it physically pained her, "hello Matilda."

"That's not my name," she said in an emotionless voice.

"Ha," Jasper laughed triumphantly, "so you do talk!"

Martin jabbed him with his elbow and gave him a pointed glare.

"Err do you have another name you want to be called?" Martin asked politely, "I mean Casey's real name is Cassandra and Scout is actually Antoinette."

"Martin," Scout furiously snapped.

"I prefer Sunny," she deadpanned.

"I would laugh but I think you're being serious," Jasper noted.

* * *

"She didn't say a word the whole time we were showing her around," Jasper complained flopping onto his bed, "and she kept staring at me. Gave me the creeps."

"Hmm," Casey sniffed, "did anyone even check to make sure we're related? I think she would have felt more at home with Clarisse and her gang."

"Would it kill you all to be nice," Scout sighed. She was on her bed staring up at the ceiling with her hands held behind her head, deep in thought. "Think about what she is going through right now. She just learned she is demi-god and has to move away from her family because there are horrible monsters out there wanting to kill her. She is obviously not going to be Miss Sunshine on the first day."

"I was never like that," Jasper admonished staring out the window at his newest sibling. Sunny was sitting out on a bench picking petals off a flower. He could not help but wince every time she mutilated a petal off the flower.

"Everyone takes the news differently," she snapped.

"Speaking of news," Martin smiled coming to stand in the middle of the room, "I have come up with a new plan. And this one is foolproof."

"Well anything tops your last grand idea," Sylvester smirked picking up his guitar, "let's hear it."

"All right but we're going to need two pieces of rope, about four rolls of duct tape and a lemon meringue pie."

"I am amazed no one has locked you up yet," Casey gaped.

* * *

She was ten when he had come to visit. It was the second time she had met him. They had met before when she was three but she hardly counted that as meeting him. She had been sitting at the piano gently kneading out notes while her mother was curled on the couch, still weak from her last bout of illness.

Marcus was out on a business trip and her step-brother was out probably drowning puppies. It was just her and Mama. That was the way it should be.

_Moonlight Sonata_ was lazily drifting through the massive house when a rap echoed on the door.

"Who could that be," her mother asked puzzled, feebly lifting up her head to stare in the direction of the door.

"I'll go and look, Mama," she said, curiously moving to the door, "you lie back down."

She slowly opened the large door to reveal an impressive figure of a man (although he looked to be only in his teens). Golden locks shadowed his handsome face and he was lean and well tanned in an un-tucked collared shirt and jeans.

"Hey Scout," the stranger smiled flashing her a bright teeth.

"Who are you," she asked confused. No one but Mama called her Scout.

The man's smiled seemed to wane a little before he began to speak only to be interrupted by her mother.

"Darling, who is at the door?"

Mama floated gracefully over to her; even when sick she managed to hold an elegant air about her.

"Hello Juliette," the man nodded to her.

"Apollo," she breathed suddenly looking frailer then when she was sick, "what are you doing here?"

"Just checking in," he smiled stepping through the doorway.

"Is that all," her mother raised an eyebrow before breaking into a coughing fit.

"You're sick," Apollo frowned moving closer to her.

He gently led her down the hallway and back to the couch. The whole time she had him watched carefully, ready to pounce should he make one false move. But he didn't. Apollo sat Mama onto the couch his hand gently rubbing her back as he whispered something she could not understand.

It was as if he has cast some sort of spell. Instantly, Mama's cheeks gained color and her hands no longer trembled. Her face looked young and healthy and her eyes were bright and alert.

"You didn't have to do that," she smiled.

"Oh please, I am the God of Healing."

"Hmm," she tensed, "and what exactly brings you back here after seven years?"

"I want to speak with you about a camp…"

They talked for a while but she could hardly understand what they were discussing. She noted Mama grimace every time the man mentioned camp but she could not understand why. She loved going to camp every summer.

Eventually, the man stood up to leave a somewhat dissatisfied look on his face. He moved swiftly to the door pulling out a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of his jeans.

"You will send her there, Juliette," he said as he opened the door.

Mama did not answer. She just stared out at the man as he slipped casually into a beautiful, red car.

"Who was that, Mama?" She asked as the car sped off out of sight.

"You probably don't remember him, darling," she said softly, pulling her close, "that was your father. He was the one who actually started calling you Scout."

"Oh," she whispered suddenly thoughtful.

* * *

"I think I have a plan," Scout suddenly said rolling off her bed, "and it's a good plan."

"A plan for what?" Sunny asked sullenly, sulking into the cabin.

"Parents Day is coming up," Martin explained, "We are hoping to get Father to come."

"I hate parents," she said in monotone.

"That's a surprise," Casey muttered.

"All right everyone shut up and listen," Scout said moving to the center of the floor, "we have two days left to get Father here, so this needs to be executed perfectly."

"Fine," Sylvester smiled, "let's hear it."

"We're going to steal his lyre," she said simply.

"That's it?" Jasper prodded, "That's the great plan? What is to stop Father from blasting us into a million pieces when he discovers we took one of his most prized possessions?"

"I've thought of that already," Scout held up a finger, "we are going to take it the day before Parents Day. If we go while it is light out we will know that he is not there, it will be perfect. And when he finally does realize that we have taken it, the festivities will already have started and our parents will be there. Father won't blast us into oblivion with all our mothers watching."

"I like it," Sylvester said scratching his chin, "it's simple, clever and doesn't involve pie."

"But we don't even know where he lives," Jasper pointed out, "not to mention if he even keeps the lyre in his house."

"He has a place in Miami," Casey said nonchalantly, "and he doesn't take it out with him when he is driving the sun chariot."

"How do you know that?" Martin asked bewildered.

Casey shrugged, "I heard one of Artemis's huntresses talking about it. Apparently they like to keep a close eye on him after what happened with this one Daphne chick."

"Well," Scout smiled, "any objections?"

"Nope," they all said in unison.

* * *

A/N: Okay so I know Apollo seemed a little OOC in that flashback but that is the way I have always pictured him.

I hope you enjoyed this installment and the faster you REVIEW the faster I get a chapter up!


	4. Chapter 4

"Absolutely not," Martin admonished in horror.

"Oh stop being such a pansy," Casey growled, rolling her eyes, "It's just a ride on the subway. We're not asking you to marry the stupid thing."

The disgusted look on Martin's face as he gazed over the waiting subway in the terminal showed he'd rather marry it then sit in it, but he took a few timid steps toward the impatiently waiting doors. He was just about ready to take a step in when he paused and turned.

"Perhaps we could take a taxi," he suggested weakly.

"What to Miami? Do I look made of money to you?" Casey snapped her nonexistent patience running thin. "Get in the damn thing before I drag you in there by the ears!"

"Why are you always threatening me?" Martin sighed, sliding his hands into his jean pockets, "I mean you must realize I'm older and have about fifty pounds on you. A twelve year old in pigtails isn't exactly threatening."

"I think you should stop now," Jasper side whispered warningly.

"No I don't think I will," Martin continued on louder, "I have had enough of her—"

_Whack_

"Ouch," Sylvester winced.

"Casey," Scout sighed, sliding a hand down her face in exasperation.

"You hit me," Martin squeaked, holding his throbbing nose, "I can't believe you hit me!"

"There's more where that came from butter-boy," Casey threatened taking a couple steps toward him.

"That's enough you two," Scout intervened, stepping in between the two, "now is not the time we should be fighting. We are only taking the subway to the Greyhound bus station, Martin, so it is not as if you're being forced to ride it from here to Miami. So stop being a pussy and get on!"

"Fine," Martin spat.

Having missed the first subway, they were forced to wait for a good ten minutes before the second one arrived into the terminal. The ten minutes were spent in hostile silence with Casey and Martin glaring daggers at each other. If looks could kill the pair would be six feet under by now.

Scout had never been on a subway before but the second she stepped onto the newly arrived car she knew why Martin had put up such a fuss. It smelled of year old fast-food and hobo clothes and each bench was colorfully decorated with an assortment of chewed gum.

"We should probably stand," she suggested to her siblings who all looked like they were having similar thoughts. The subway unceremoniously pulled out of the terminal its sharp start forcing them to grab a hold of the hanging handles that felt moist and reeked of sweat.

As the subway continued on Scout noticed Jasper looking a little jumpy. Every few moments he would pause and take a quick look sideways before snapping his head forward. The cranks and whistles of the subway and the sudden coughs from surrounding passengers made him flinch and every time a voice was raised he shivered.

"You alright, Jasper?" She finally asked, unused to having her normally coolly composed brother on edge. He looked up at her for a moment then shifted his gaze back to the same spot, then shifted them back to her.

"Do you see those two guys over there by the door?" he whispered hoarsely. Scout peered over his head to take a look at what he was talking about. Two men sat together on a bench, oblivious to the gum and questionable stains. Their attention was solely on them. The man sitting closest to them wore Stevie Wonder sunglasses and a moustache that covered his mouth completely. The second man was skinny and fragile, like a good sneeze would blow him to Timbuktu and his glossy eyes that made him look sickly.

"Yeah. I see them," she gulped, her eyes instinctively searching for exits. Unfortunately, speeding subways were not exactly made for quick exits.

"What's the matter?" Sunny asked in her dead-panned voice, staring creepily over at her half-sister.

"Nothing," she answered quickly, wincing in regret as she noted her high-pitched response.

"Liar," Sylvester shot.

"Alright we might be in a bit of a difficult situation," she whispered.

"Because of the monsters sitting over there?" Sunny nodded her head over to where the two men sat.

"How do you know they're monsters?"

"Those two attacked me on my way home from school about a week before I got sent to camp. Almost killed my little brother but I got them run over by a bus before they could do any real damage."

Scout let out an impressed whistle. "A bus? Really? That beats my monster encounters. The best I could do was having a tree fall on one of them."

For the first time Scout could remember Sunny let out a small appreciative smile. "Glad to know I'm not the only freak in this world."

"Welcome to the family where freaks are born and bred."

"Do you have a plan?"

"Well they haven't attacked us yet and I think it would look a little suspicious if six teenagers walked up and started beating the crap out of two men for no apparent reasons."

Sunny shrugged. "This is New York. You don't need a reason to beat the crap out of somebody."

"I would like to come up with an alternative plan all the same."

"Suit yourself."

"Uh Scout," Jasper whispered, "they're getting up."

Scout looked up and over at the two men. Sure enough they had stood up and were heading in their direction. She watched as Moustache-man slid his glasses off slowly revealing glaring red eyes and killer intent.

"I think now is a good time to make our exit."

"Damn and I was so enjoying this little trip," Martin sighed, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

But before any of them had a chance to take a step towards an exit the two men were upon them, their shadows settling at the siblings' feet.

"Hello children," coughed the sickly looking one, "what is prey like you doing out here all by yourselves."

"Drugs mostly," Sylvester answered without blinking, "I mean what other reasons do kids have for being out in the slums without adult supervision."

"Shut up Sly," Casey snapped her eyes wide and guarded.

"Well its good do know not all of you morsels are not without common sense," said the moustache man, nodding appreciatively at Casey, "you should listen to the girl."

"Is that what they're calling us these days?" Sylvester cocked his head to the smile with a grin, "morsels?"

"That _is_ what you call something you wish to eat, correct?" smirked the sickly one.

"That's very true," Sylvester nodded with mock understanding. Unbeknownst to the two men the siblings had begun to suddenly circle around them, their eyes steely and their bodies tensed.

"Good then you won't mind—"

* * *

"We are so dead," Martin moaned, leaning his head against the thick glass of the Greyhound bus.

"Stop being so negative," Casey sighed, plugging her iPod in quickly so as not hear anymore of his complaining.

"But it's true! When Mr. D finds out he's going to—going to kill us. Then when my parents find out! They're going to—"Martin started breathing heavily.

"Your parents won't kill you," Sunny said simply.

"You think so?" Martin looked over at her hopefully.

"If Mr. D has already killed you then it would be impossible for your parents to kill a corpse as you are already dead," she pointed out in her monotone voice.

"Why thank you Sunny," he said flatly.

"And where are you heading, sweetheart," asked the old lady seated next to Casey. The young girl looked over the woman in exasperation. Slowly, she pulled out her headphones, looking at her suspiciously.

"Why do you need to know?"

"Casey," Scout snapped, "stop being rude." Her older sister turned around in her seat so that she could glare at Casey.

"She was getting nosey!"

"Please excuse my sister," Scout smiled politely at the old woman, "she gets nervous around strangers."

"And where are you and your sister heading, dearie," asked the old woman, blinking her large eyes under the even larger glasses.

"Miami."

"By yourselves," asked the woman in shock, "I cannot believe your parents would allow you to do such a thing. It seems rather irresponsible of them."

Scout shook her head quickly, trying to calm the lady down, "well our parents aren't really together anymore. We're actually going to Miami to visit our father."

"Is that so," she looked around at them suspiciously. Jasper and Sylvester were playing a quick game of poker in the seats diagonal to her. Sitting beside Scout was Sunny in the furthest seat away from Casey (for obvious reasons).

"Your poor mother," the old lady crooned, "taking care of six children all on her own."

"No," said Sunny staring out the bus window, "none of us have the same mother so—"

Quickly, Scout jabbed her hand over Sunny's mouth all the while trying to pull off an innocent smile, "What she means by that is—is we're adopted! We all have different mothers—and fathers, of course. All different. It's just that…" She trailed off weakly, her mind unable to produce any more productive lies.

"I still think it's is irresponsible of your family to allow you to travel from New York all the way to Miami. Lord knows the kind of lunatics running around waiting to snap up innocent children like you. It makes me queasy just thinking about it!"

Scout resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This lady did not know the half of it. She could still hear the monsters pitiful squeals as they were thrown under the speeding subway.

"Now my daughter would never let Amelia, that's my granddaughter, out anywhere on her own. That is responsible parenting for you. My little Amelia is quite the young lady, a debutante _and_ valedictorian."

Scout shuddered as the word debutante was mentioned. How many times had her stepfather's mother tried to fit her into that white dress and how many countless hours were wasted at tea parties and fundraisers? Fluttering her eyes at the pretty boys of New York's high society was not her idea of a good time at all.

"You see it is all about good breeding. Just one parent can ruin the offspring, you know. I hope there is no one on the brink of insanity in your family?"

"There wasn't until you stepped on the bus," Casey muttered under her breath, slouching in her seat.

"Insane people should not be allowed to breed," the woman continued on, "they can ruin the whole generation. And don't even get me started on alcoholics!"

Eventually, the old woman trailed off and fell asleep, leaving the siblings in a blissful silence. None of them spoke, each too preoccupied to talk. What business did they have going to Miami? Why should they care if their father came to Parent's day?

Martin let out a deep sigh, resting his head against the coolness of the icy window. When had he even last seen his father? It must have been when he was eight, the day after he was first attacked. His step-father had been at work and his mother had taken him to the park that day for an ice cream. She had been gently running her fingers through his curly hair as he licked his Popsicle when a shadow appeared over them, blocking the sun from their eyes. Martin had felt his mothers tighten around him as she stared up at the stranger looking down at them.

"Apollo," she whispered, her voice strained.

The stranger gave her a bright smile, digging his hands deep into his jean pockets, "Hello Nelly. Its been a while."

"Eight years I should think," she said and Martin had heard the bitterness in her words. He remembered wondering who the man was and why he looked so familiar.

"Is this him?" Apollo asked crouching down casually, so that he was eye level with Martin.

"Yes," his mother said cautiously. The man's eyes twinkled as she said this and he reached out a hand and ruffled Martin's sandy blonde curls.

"He looks just like me," he smiled a sense of pride in his words.

"What do you want, Apollo?" His mother asked quickly, "why did you come back."

Apollo's smile slipped away from his lips and his startling blue eyes took to a greyer tone, "I heard about the attack, Nelly."

"And where were you exactly when he was all alone and fighting that demon off," his mother snapped, her features livid, "why didn't you keep him safe like you promised me you would?"

"I kept my promise," he said steadily, standing up, "why do you think he is still alive?"

His mother had been lost for words. She only sat there with him in her arms, watching quietly as the man walked slowly away without another word.

Did his father even really care about him or was he just keeping his promise to his mother?

Eventually, the annoying squeal of the bus shook Martin from his memories and reminded him where he was. He wasn't that quiet eight year old boy anymore, he was going to speak with his father and this time Martin would decide exactly when and where his father would just appear.

"Are you ready, Martin," Jasper asked, as his siblings waited in the aisle of the bus.

"Yeah," he answered, "I think so."

* * *

Sorry for the long wait. I have been feeling a little uninspired in the Percy Jackson department so I was busy at work with my other stories. Thank you to all who have reviewed and helped me with my writing.

I apologize for not describing the scene where the kids take on the monsters but every time I tried to write it I became stuck at a dead end. Battle scenes are not my strong point!

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Martin asked, peering over at Scout.

"How the heck should I know," she snapped, her brows furrowed in thought, "It's not like I could just look up Apollo the Sun God in the phone book."

"No need to be snippy," he said taking a step back in defense, "I'm just saying this place looks…"

"Normal," Sunny dead-panned.

Scout had to admit she was pretty skeptical. Normalcy just wasn't to her father's taste.

The house was beautifully situated to the East with its large bay windows taking in every last drop of sunlight. Wrought iron balconies decorated the upper levels and the large mahogany door at the entrance looked welcoming. The sophistication of the mansion deeply contrasted with the immature nature of their father.

"Well are we just going to stand out here all day?" Casey sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

"I guess somebody should go up there and knock," Sylvester suggested, squinting his eyes up toward the house. So who wants to—what are you doing?"

"We just did nose-goes and you lost," Jasper smirked, tapping a finger to his nose mockingly. Sylvester's other siblings had similar smug smiles as they stared back at him with their fingers touching their nose.

"Oh come on," Sylvester whined, his eyes flickering back and forth in panic, "you mean I got to go up there alone?"

"What's the big deal? It's just a door, Sly," Casey smiled evilly. She loved seeing her brother squirm.

"It's not the door I'm worried about," said Sylvester. Slowly, he turned his head to look at the house once more. Suddenly, it seemed a lot more intimidating then it had a few minutes ago.

"Just remember the plan ," Scout said patiently, "he probably keeps the lyre somewhere close so check the bedroom or anywhere else that it may be hidden. Find it and get out. Got it?"

"That depends. If I say no will I still have to do this?"

Scout playfully knocked him upside the head, "just go. There is nothing to worry about. Father won't be home till the sunsets so you have little over an hour."

Sylvester considered falling to his knees and begging for someone else to steal from their father but that seemed a little undignified. So instead he took in a few deep breaths to try and calm his nerves before taking a couple timid steps towards the house. It did not feel right—stealing from his father. Of course he had only met the man a few times in his life but still…

Was it worth all of this?

He paused in his steps and thoughtfully turned to look back at his siblings. Why did it matter so much to them? Sylvester could have cared less about seeing the man who abandoned his mother and left her broken and miserable. So what was he doing here?

"Dude," Casey called out to him, "I would like to be out of here before I hit puberty!"

Sylvester could not help but role his eyes. He would like to see the little monster do this herself. Taking in another deep breath he continued down the paved walkway, slowly following the swerving trail to the massive front door. Shakily, he stretched out his hand to turn the door knob. Without much effort the heavy door swung open. This caused Sylvester to pause.

It should not be this easy to break into a god's house.

He cautiously took a step into the open foyer. His muscles were tense and he could not help but flinch every time his sneaker squeaked against the expensive tile. It was not until he reached the spacious living room at the end, did he slightly relax. His eyes gazed over the room appreciatively. His father could not be too bad if he had the good sense to go with the 72" plasma and surround sound features. Sylvester shook his head trying to get his mind off of the beautiful guitars he just glimpsed standing in the corner. He needed to focus!

Now where would his father's bedroom be?

Most likely it would be upstairs, he reasoned, making his way to the marble staircase. Quickly, he climbed, taking two steps at a time. The steps led to a long hallway, decorated with music albums, posters and even a few of the funny sculptures where the artist got lazy and just sculpted the person's head. Most of the doors down the hallway were open making it easier for Sylvester to quickly scan each room. He soon grew annoyed as each room proved to either be a studio or game room or storage. He let out a deep moan of frustration, lazily kicking the final door open wider. The moan caught in his throat.

In all honesty he had never really met his father before. His mother told him stories and swore up and down that he had even held Sylvester a few times. But it was not as if he truly knew the guy. Seeing his room though was like finding his long lost twin. Their bedrooms were almost identical! Countless band posters clung to the wall from The Killers to AC/DC. Clothes and guitar picks were lazily thrown onto the floor and the most beautiful stereo he had ever seen was tucked into a shelf.

While Sylvester may have gone happily along with his siblings scheme to bring their father to camp, he had never actually had any desire to meet the man who abandoned his mother and left her so cold. But now he had this sudden urge to meet this man who shared his taste in music. He wanted to hear his opinions on the songs he had written and he wanted to discuss the best material for strumming a guitar.

He was about to inspect the god's impressive CD collection when he felt something nagging at him at the back of his skull. There was something he was supposed to be doing—something important.

"Oh Zeus the lyre!" he shouted allowed. He was wasting time. The digital clock read seven and the sun was already moving closer toward the ocean's edge. So if he was a lyre where in the name of Hades would he be?

Closet maybe?

Nope.

Bathroom?

Nothing!

Laundry basket?

Nada.

Oh gods he would never find the stupid thing! He was going to get caught and the Zeus knows what his father will do when he learns that—

"What the heck is taking you so long?"

Sylvester felt his heart stop and his body jump three feet in the air all in a matter of seconds.

"PLEASE DON'T BURN ME TO A CRISP!"

Jasper rolled his eyes. How did he get such a wimp of a brother?'

"Would you relax. It's only me, stupid."

It took a second for Sylvester to answer; he had to first get his heart rate back to a normal speed.

"DON'T EVER SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT AGAIN!"

Jasper held up is hands as if he were surrendering, "alright, alright. Wow I can't believe I forgot how much like a girl you sound when you scream. Man where's a video recorder when you need one. I'm thinking America's Funniest Home Videos, aren't you?"

"I think I'm beginning to loathe you."

His brother only gave him an irritating grin before turning his attention to the bedroom.

"Well have you found it yet?" Jasper asked, his eyes tracing over every detail of the room.

"No," Sylvester grumbled.

"Scout sent me in here to help you," he said, pushing aside a discarded shirt with the toe of his shoe, "Have you only checked in here?"

"Well yeah. I can't think of any other place to look."

"We need to hurry up. I think we only have about a half an hour left."

"But this house is huge! We are never going to find it."

Jasper was quiet for a moment, his blue eyes flitting over the floor as he thought.

"Are you sure you checked everywhere?'

"Yes," Sylvester let out an irritated sigh.

"Did you check behind the posters?"

Sylvester looked at his brother like he had grown a second head, "Do I look stupid? Don't you think I would notice a lumpy lyre shape under a poster?"

"Good gods how many times were you dropped on your head?" Jasper exclaimed rubbing his forehead in annoyance, "The thing would not be plastered under the poster it could be in a compartment _behind_ the poster."

"Oh."

"Remind me to slap you later. I'm too annoyed to enjoy it now."

"But—"

"I don't want to hear it. Just start checking behind the posters."

Sylvester closed his mouth. There was no way they would be able to look under every poster. There were hundreds of them!

"It's going to take forever to check behind every single one, Jaz," he pointed out.

"Do you have a better idea?" Jasper growled, his hands flitting over the posters nearest to him.

"Well in the movies people usually put stuff in meaningful places. Like my mom kept her jewelry in a bible."

"Maybe," Jasper said biting his lip, "but that doesn't help us. I barely remember what he looks like much less what his favorite band is!"

"Ehh—depends on my mood."

The two boys went stiff as the sound of the new voice echoed over the room. Neither of them dared turned around. Would you if it meant facing the wrath of the sun god?

But if Apollo noticed that his children were on the brink of cardiac arrest he did not show it. He continued on, "I mean when you are the god of music it seems a little wrong to pick a favorite."

The fact that his father's tone was light and not in the least bit angry gave Sylvester the courage to turn around and face him. Bad idea.

Even if his voice did not show his anger his brooding face certainly did. Sylvester had to admit even in the form of a teenager his father was awesomely intimidating.

"Ahem sir we noticed you were an avid music fan and were wondering if you would like to buy a subscription to—"

"Nice try Jasper," Apollo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You may have grown on me but I think I would recognize my own offspring."

Jasper glowered.

"So is there a reason you two decided to break into my house?"

"Yes," Jasper nodded tersely, "we were looking for designing tips for the cabin. I gotta say I love what you did with the laundry. It's messy but not _too_ messy."

Sylvester gave his brother a nudge. Was he serious? You do not talk to a god like that! Not unless of course you had a death wish.

Jasper knew that it was stupid but he did not care. Seeing the man who hurt his mother and left her to raise a son was more then he could handle. Who cared if the man turned him into a well-done steak, if he could just get one punch in…

"You don't have to explain. I know why you are here."


	6. Chapter 6

No one dared move as they sat like statues on the living room couch. Sylvester was trying to make himself as invisible as possible, pushing deep into the voluptuous cushions. The children's eyes were everywhere but on the tensed form of their father.

Apollo paced in front of them with hands firmly clasped behind his back. On closer inspection the god's teenage form had slowly molded into a more mature figure. His body was more pronounced and less lanky. All in all he came across as an intimidating father figure.

It was Scout who finally broke the silence. "Uh sir? We really are sorry about all of this. We didn't mean to cause you so much trouble."

The god stared at her for a moment like she was some newly discovered creature. It wasn't until he blinked did his azure eyes become more focused.

"And what," he asked, taking a step closer to her, "exactly was your reason for coming here if it was not to stir up trouble?"

Scout was at a loss for words. She had absolutely no experience on how to explain to your godly father that the reason you were in fact breaking into his house was to steal his sacred lyre in the hopes that he would come to Parent's Day. Great Zeus the plan sounded a heck of a lot better in her head.

"Well you see sir," Martin said, "We thought—"

"Don't do that," their father interjected.

" Do what?"

"The whole sir thing. It makes me feel old."

The siblings gave each other sideways glances. No one had the heart to tell him that he was just about as old as dirt.

"Well then what do we call you?" Casey asked incredulously. The god clenched his jaw and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jean.

"We'll figure something out," he said quietly, "but in the mean time you will answer my questions minus the yes-sir no-sir part."

"Yes si—sure," Martin grinned sheepishly.

"Now what is it exactly that gave you the sudden urge to run away from camp, endanger your lives and break into my house?" He asked the steel back in his voice.

"Parents' Day," Martin muttered, a blush slowly creeping into his cheeks.

"What about it?" Their father asked, his cobalt eyes sweeping over them in confusion.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory," Casey sniped, looking her father over like he was a very slow child, "you're a parent aren't you?"

"Yes, as much as I am beginning to regret it."

"Well we want you there," Martin interjected, "for Parents' Day."

"Your words say come to Parents' Day but the death glares some of you are giving me say stay away," Apollo noted.

Jasper, Sylvester and Sunny did not even try to pretend to be bashful. The stares continued to bore holes into their father.

"Look," Scout sighed, rubbing the back of her head, "we aren't asking you to take us to the zoo every weekend or tuck us in at night. We are just asking you to come to one stupid little festival that recognizes you as our parent."

"I see," he said, leaning tiredly against a wall, "but I don't understand why a simple letter or e-mail would not have sufficed. Breaking and entering seems a little extreme."

"Right. Because they have Apollo the sun god listed in the Yellow pages." Jasper rolled his eyes.

"Point taken," he admitted, "but you really think stealing my lyre was the smartest way to get my attention. Beings have been smite for less."

"Hey," Sylvester interrupted, puzzled, "how did you know we were going to steal the lyre."

"It hurts that my own children are not aware that I am the god of prophecies."

Sunny rolled her eyes, "What? Nobody planned for _that_ one!"

"Well if you knew what we were doing what the heck is with the interrogation," Casey growled, "you already know what we want."

"You're right I know exactly what you want," he admitted staring her down, "but what I don't know is why. You all have perfectly good families and fathers who match the job description. What do you want from a man who just supplied half of your genetics?"

"You really believe that?" Scout asked incredulously.

"I believe that none of you really need me and that you are holding onto this ridiculous fantasy that I am going to claim you and be the perfect dad because your parents forced you to eat your vegetables," he growled, his blue suddenly intense and bright.

"How dare you," Scout snapped, standing up from the couch, "you have no idea what we have had to live with because of you. Sometimes having a fantasy is just better then facing the reality that your mother is dying and in a loveless marriage because she has a child she needs to support."

"Scout—" Apollo began but he was cut off.

"Let me finish," she said her voice slipping into a calmed and detached tone, "let me tell you all about the fact that my step-dad could care less about what happens to my mom as long as she behaves like a trophy wife. Or how about Martin who has to endure the look of disgust his mother gives him. What about Casey who doesn't even have a father! How about Sylvester who has a father that never lets him forget his heritage. And there's Jasper who is lost in a sea of half-siblings, squeezed out of his own family. Sunny doesn't even have a family, her mother just left her in a park. So you're right we don't need you we have all survived the disasters we call life but it would help if we knew it was worth it. It would help to know that the man who made our lives so hellish actually cared."

"Scout, you have to understand that I do care and that's why I do my best to stay out of your lives," Apollo explained. As if his strings had been cut he dropped to the opposite couch with his hands intertwined anxiously through his golden curls.

"Trust me as horrible as you think your fathers are I am ten times worst."

"We aren't asking you to be our father," Casey growled, "we're asking you to come to a stupid party and pretend that you care about us for a few hours."

Apollo looked up at her, his eyes glimmering, while he contemplated her words.

"You know what forget it," Martin said, breaking the stormy silence, "it doesn't matter. You're right I did have a fantasy of you being the perfect father. But I guess now I see that even gods aren't perfect."

Martin rose slowly from the couch with his face firmly set in stone.

"Hold it," Apollo commanded, rising up from his seat, "I never said I wasn't coming. All I asked was why."

"Why you slimy, good for nothing, unbelievable piece of—"

"Alright Casey that's enough," Martin smiled nervously, slapping a hand over his sister's mouth before she could finish her colorful speech.

"I you were planning on coming then what the heck was that Dr. Phil moment for," Jasper growled in deep annoyance.

"I had somewhat of a premonition we would be confronting your deep disgust with me and figured why put off till tomorrow what you can get over with today." Their father smirked down at them, his body slowly shifting back into a teenage form.

"Forget it," Jasper said quickly, speeding to the door, "I changed my mind. This was probably the stupidest idea we have ever had—that includes the time we decided to braid Chiron's tail while he was sleeping."

"It was a good idea until he we learned he kicks in his sleep," Sylvester mumbled.

'I don't get it first you want me to come to Parent's Day and now you don't?" Apollo smirked, folding his arms smugly.

"Well of course we want you to come," Martin chirped. Everyone stared in surprise at Martin's turnaround.

"But a moment ago you were telling him to just forget it," Scout pointed out.

"Well yeah that was when I thought he wasn't going to come. I thought all the pouting would make him feel guilty."

"It wouldn't have worked anyway," their father smiled, now looking like an eighteen year old, "gods don't really do guilt. If we did there wouldn't be room for any other kind of emotion."

"So that whole killing spree you went on with Niobe's kids when she dissed your mother doesn't even make you feel a little guilty," Scout asked, somewhat unnerved.

"I'll admit it was a tad extreme but in my defense how else could I have responded to such a slight to my mother."

"I find a good swirly usually rectifies the situation," Jasper answered.

"Yes gods giving swirlies," Apollo agreed sarcastically, "that would have gone over well with the Greeks. Why have blood and gore when you can have water rushing up your nose."

"You laugh but it hurts," Sylvester said defensively.

"You would know," Jasper smirked.

Apollo watched them curiously, his azure eyes jumping from one child to the next. There were very few occasions that allowed him to be near his children but when the chance did arise he never failed to be fascinated. Gods have perfect memories but he doubted Ares or Zeus could name all the women who bore them children. He on the other hand could hardly stand to forget any of them. And every time he saw one of his offspring he was reminded once again of the woman who fell into his trap.

Of course they all carried his looks. He stared over the sea of blonde curls and sharp cerulean eyes but each of their faces were marred with mortality, their mothers' traits shining through.

Then there was his little Scout. She shared absolutely no resemblance to him. Something she seemed to be quite proud of by the way she held up her chin. He remembered her mother doing that a lot to him. It would be when he had showed up late or when he said goodbye. It was a sign of quiet resentment.

Of course she had every right to hate him. But maybe he could change that.

"So you will come?" Martin asked anxiously, his eyes staring pleadingly up at the god.

"Sure," Apollo shrugged with a smile, "it sounds like it could be fun."

Sorry that it took forever to update! Summer is coming to an end and I had my summer reading to finish. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed. I am glad you are enjoying the story and I will do my best to update sooner. Thanks : )


	7. Chapter 7

_Ring Ring Ring_

The siblings eyed the telephone warily.

_Ring Ring Ring_

No one dared answer it.

_Ring Ring—_

The abrupt silence of the phone ended the tense moment, releasing the children from their quiet state of fear. Sylvester slowly began to breathe again and Martin no longer looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Scout opened her mouth to help ease the tension when—

_Ring Ring Ring_

"Damn it," Casey muttered, eyeing the phone like it was going to pounce on her.

_Ring Ring Ring_

"One of us is going to have to answer it you know," Scout pointed out. No one moved. All eyes were strangely everywhere but on Scout.

"Well don't everyone get up at once," she growled, forcing herself towards the phone.

_Ring Ring—_

"Hello," she answered nervously.

"Scott? Is that you?"

Scout winced at the familiar shrill voice, "It's Scout, Mrs. Stroud"

"That is what I said, dear," the voice said testily. "Is my son there? I have something I need to discuss with him."

Scout smirked, "One sec."

"Martin," she smiled evilly, "It's for you."

Her brother visibly paled, his eyes suddenly looking panicked. Jasper sidestepped to the door, watching carefully as Martin looked ready to run.

Taking a deep gulp he took the phone from Scout's outstretched hand. Shakily he lifted it to his ear. His siblings watched him with pity, silently grateful that it wasn't any of them.

"Hello Mother," he gasped out.

"Darling I got an interesting call from your camp director this morning," Claire Stroud began calmly, "do you know what he told me, dear?"

"Well I imagined he—" Martin tried to answer, fighting for some way to get out of the trap his mother was so clearly setting.

"He told me that you and your little friends took a little unsanctioned trip," she continued, her voice getting higher with each word, "To your father's no less!"

"Well we wanted to—"

"Do you have any idea how hard I have worked to keep you safe and away from that lying, cheating bastard? And then you just get it into your head that it is a good idea to leave camp and visit him! What were you thinking?"

"I suppose I was—"

"That's right you weren't thinking!" She shrieked, causing Martin to jerk away from the phone. "Just wait till your father hears about this."

"He isn't my father," Martin mumbled.

"What!" Sunny fell off the bed in surprise at the sudden noise coming from the other side of the cabin.

"What do you mean he isn't your father! That man has given you everything. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. Laurence is more of a father to you that Apollo could ever be."

"Mom I didn't mean—"

"We will discuss this when I get there tomorrow, young man. Right now I am late for my yoga class."

"But Mother—"

_Click_

"Well that went well," Martin growled, slamming the phone back onto the hook. His siblings were at a loss for words. They all knew that would be the first of many calls they would be receiving from their parents.

_KNOCK KNOCK_

"Ah Styx," Jasper swore peering out the window, "It's Mr. D."

Everyone paused in panic. None were eager to be the one to have to open the door, in the end though it really didn't matter. With a gust of wind the door flew open, the bang echoing throughout the silent cabin. Mr. D took a heavy step inside, closely followed by Chiron.

"Well good afternoon kids," Mr. D said pleasantly, beaming around the room.

The children simultaneously took a step back, their survival instincts kicking into full gear. It was dangerous to be around Mr. D when he smiled but it was downright suicidal to be anywhere near him when he appeared to be in a good mood. Generally when he was happy it meant that someone was going to be very sad.

"Now you see when I say good afternoon kids," Mr. D pointed out, "polite children often say 'good afternoon Mr. D'."

"Good afternoon Mr. D," they quickly said.

"That's better," he smiled, stepping further into the cabin. "You all must be tired after your little adventure."

"Not really sir," Martin said carefully.

"Well that's good to hear," Mr. D nodded, "BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL ON BATHROOM DUTY FOR THE REST OF THE MONTH YOU BRATS!"

The Apollo cabin groaned. They had walked right into _that_ one.

"MAYBE THAT WILL BE ENOUGH TO GET IT INTO YOUR THICK HEADS THAT I AIN'T MESSING AROUND HERE!"

"Yes sir," they mumbled.

"Nobody leaves my camp without my permission!" He continued on, his face getting redder by the minute. "You're all lucky I don't leave you out in the forest for a night. See how tough you are in the real world then!"

His ranting continued on. The shouting would not have been so bad for the cabin if they hadn't had to endure the look of disappointment they were receiving from Chiron the whole time. They may have hated Mr. D's guts but they had nothing but respect for the old centaur.

But Chiron said nothing, his steady gaze boring into their bowed heads.

"Thanks to you little monsters I've got all the gods coming to this bloody Parent's Day. What a nightmare! Like I need them breathing down my neck and telling me how to run a camp for their little misfits!" Mr. D's rants continued on until it looked like he might explode.

Taking in one last deep breathe he growled, "I hope you brats are happy."

"Ecstatic," Jasper mumbled.

"_I hope you're happy!  
I hope you're happy now  
I hope you're happy how you  
Hurt your cause forever  
I hope you think you're clever!"_

"Yes thank you Scout. I get the message," Martin grumbled from his bed.

But Scout continued tapping away at the keys allowing for the music to fill up the cabin. It was never a good sign when Scout started singing musicals. She sang "Can't Get a Man with a Gun" one time last year and the next day she proved one could in fact get a man with a gun—cough—or bow. It wasn't until later that Martin finally gained the courage to tell her that the song meant one cannot get a man _alive_ with a gun.

"You know something Martin," she finally said, her hands still steadily dancing over the keys, "I don't think you _do_ understand. I don't think you realize what exactly it is you have done here."

"I don't understand why you're so upset," Martin answered wildly, instinctively shrinking as far away from his sister as humanly possible. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"What do you mean you haven't done anything wrong," she shrieked, her hands falling onto the piano keys, causing a horrendous noise. "You brought that man back into our lives, Martin!"

"What is so wrong about acknowledging our father?" Martin countered.

"Because _our father_ is a good for nothing low life who thinks that because he is a god he can go around and sleep with any woman he chooses and not have to deal with the nasty consequences of children. He thinks he can just drop us off at camp and forget about us for awhile until all of a sudden he feels inclined to play a doting father for a few hours. Then after that it is back to the care free life of a bachelor!"

"Scout I didn't—"

"What are you going to do, Martin, when he no longer feels like playing daddy, huh? We have gotten along fine without for years why do you insist on opening up old wounds?"

"Listen I'm—" But it was too late Scout was already out the door.

"Gods sometimes this family is better than watching a soap opera," Sunny smirked.

"You have to admit though, she does have a point," Jasper acknowledged, leaning casually against the cabin wall. "You certainly opened up a big can of worms."

"What?" Martin's head shot up. "Why is everyone saying this is my fault? I definitely didn't hear any of you objecting."

"Well it was your idea in the first place," said Sylvester.

"Oh please," Martin rolled his eyes, "like all of you weren't thinking the same thing. Like this whole camp doesn't want their godly parents to show up. Spare me. I did us all favor."

"I'm not so sure, Martin," Casey sighed. She caught a glimpse of Scout as she skirted past the window. "It isn't just us I'm worried about. What happens when our mothers have to meet him tomorrow?"

"Great Zeus," Martin paled, "I didn't even think of that."

I would sincerely like to apologize to you guys for taking forever to update. I suffer from an incredibly short attention span and an incredibly large stack of homework.

Thanks for sticking with it : )


	8. Chapter 8

"I feel absolutely ridiculous," Jasper grumbled pulling at his collar like it was a hangman's noose.

Casey shot him a glare. "At least you get to wear pants."

Jasper looked over his sister carefully. Though he would never say so to her face, she had somehow managed to look like a normal eleven year old girl this morning. The dress seemed a little odd on the tomboy of the family but its pale blue fabric looked pretty against her tan skin and brought out her eyes. He shook his head remembering the three hours it took to run her down and stick her in that stupid dress. It was like they were handing her a death sentence the way she was hollering at them.

He fiddled with his tie for a moment, impatiently waiting for the rest of his siblings. Why couldn't they just get this over with? He was already anticipating the moment he could tear off the monkey suit and slip back into a baggy pair of jeans and a t-shirt. A suit was just too stifling.

Jasper and Casey's heads shot up at the sound of the cabin door banging open. Sylvester was the first out with his forehead crinkled in a way that made you think his dog just died. He too was dressed up in a suit and tie, his shaggy hair deeply contrasting against the fine cut of the suit. He was closely followed by Martin who was the only one who appeared pleased with his appearance.

Jasper was close to punching him for strutting around so much.

A few minutes later Sunny hopped down the stairs, her face sullen. Of course this was nothing new. Someone could have told her she won the lottery and she would still look like somebody died. Scout was the last one in.

No one could deny that she was pretty but with a dress on and her hair curled she no longer looked like she was just one of the guys. And this somehow disappointed Jasper.

"Everybody set?" Martin asked looking around, "The bus leaves in about fifteen minutes."

They all nodded and began following him down towards the entrance of the camp. No one but Martin looked particularly pleased about their current situation. In fact if Martin had bothered to turn around he would have noticed five pair of eyes shooting daggers into his back.

"I don't understand why the parents can't just come here," Sylvester mumbled, ruffling his hair to make it look like more of a mess. He loathed being neat.

"Mortals can't enter Camp Half-Blood, Sly," Scout sighed, her feet already aching from her high heels. "And besides half of the parents coming don't even know we're demi-gods. My step-dad thinks I'm at a camp for troubled teens."

"Well then where in Hades are we going?" Sylvester yelled.

"Plan B," Annabeth interjected from behind.

"Come again?"

"Plan B is a camp about a mile away from here. It's a regular camp we use sometimes for occasions like this. It has everything a summer camp should minus an armory, deadly weapons and magical creatures."

"Well that's rather clever," Martin beamed.

"But I thought this was the first year we were doing Parent's Day," Scout frowned.

"Well I heard they had one about fifty years ago,' Annabeth explained, "but there were problems with some of the moms. Apparently a big fight broke out."

"What makes them think this year is going to be any different?"

"That is an excellent question," Annabeth smirked before turning back to her own siblings.

"Darling!" Her mother shrieked, running to wrap her arms around her daughter.

Scout took in a deep breath relishing the sweet scent of her mother. "Hey mom."

Juliette held her daughter at arm length, her pretty greens eyes warmly admiring her. "I have missed you so much."

Scout smiled truly happy to be back with the most wonderful person in the world.

"Hiya Scotty," Alexander teased, pulling on her hair with a chubby hand. "Miss me?"

"Nope." She glowered. Leave it to her stupid step-brother to ruin a perfectly good moment.

"Hello Antoinette," her step-father patted her coldly, his posture suggesting he wished to be anywhere but here at the moment.

"Marcus," she nodded coolly. Under normal circumstances Marcus and she would be at each other's throats in a matter of minutes. But she would not let him get to her today, not in front of her mother anyway.

"Martin your pants! Did you even bother to iron them?" Were his mother's first words to him.

"Hello to you too, Mother." Martin grimaced as the tiny woman began to pick at his clothes, removing invisible lint from his collar.

"Marty have you gotten skinnier? Do they not feed you here? I swear you look like a twig!"

"Claire," his father mercifully interjected, "let the boy be."

"But don't you think he looks skinny?" His mother persisted.

"Nonsense he looks just the same as the last time we saw him. Now stop fussing before you hurt yourself" His father winked at him. Martin smiled back. Herb had been in is life ever since he was three and as far as Martin was concerned he was part of the family.

"You both think I'm crazy don't you!" Claire accused huffily.

"Course not Honey," Herb reassured her.

"We think you're wonderful Mother," Martin smiled.

"JASPER!" His sisters shrieked dog piling him to the ground.

"I thought I told you _not_ to bring them," he growled, glaring up at his parents from the ground.

His parents smirked down at him looking unbashful.

"Is that what he said, Millie?" his father smirked.

"That's funny, Lewis." His mother smiled, "I though he said 'oh please mom _bring_ my sisters'. We must have had a faulty connection."

"Please continue." Jasper interjected sarcastically, "you two are just cracking me up."

"Alright girls," Millie sighed, "let Jazz up."

All nine girls complied, giggling to themselves as they allowed their older brother off the ground.

"I don't see why _that_ was necessary," Jasper grumbled wiping dust from his jacket.

"We missed you Jazzy!" Hope chirped.

"Yeah we missed you Jazzy!" Chastity squealed.

"Did you miss us Jazzy?" Charity asked.

"Of course he missed us! Didn't you Jazzy," Temperance interjected.

"But I bet he missed me the most!" Felicity shrilled.

"No he didn't! He missed me the most," Honor pouted.

"Nu-uh Jazzy likes me the best so he missed me the most," Grace said, stomping her foot.

"He doesn't like you best he likes me best!" Epiphany argued.

"Mmr phuh ayie!" Faith gurbled.

"Aspirin. I need an aspirin," Jasper moaned.

"There she is!" Her moms smiled, running over to her.

"Hi you guys," Casey smiled, wrapping her arms around them.

"Oh we missed you so much, kid." Her mom squeezed her close.

"You don't know how many times I had to stop her from driving down here and dragging you back home," Kim laughed.

"Well I get lonely when you're at work. All I have is that stupid cat to talk to," Zoe said defensively.

"And she does talk to it," Kim side-whispered, 'I walk in on them having very long meaningful conversations."

Casey laughed. She had forgotten how much she missed her family. Zoe may have been her mom but she felt just as close to Kim as she did to Zoe. She was lucky. Not every girl got to have two amazing, oddball families.

"Sylvester, for God's sake stop slouching," his mother ordered, "I did not raise a hunchback."

"Yes Mother," Sylvester moaned standing rod straight.

"And will you tuck in your shirt. You look like a hobo."

"But I don't—"

"Do not sass your mother, Sylvester," his father warned.

"Yes sir." He knew Parent's Day was a bad idea.

"Sara careful of that rut in the road," his father said, "you would think this camp would be better taken care of."

"It's a camp, sir," Sylvester pointed out.

"What was that?"

"Nothing sir," Sylvester ducked.

"My gracious it is a wonder you haven't contracted Lyme disease with all these trees. They must be swarming with ticks." Sara peered around the site over her glasses. "Oh good Lord Tom! They have a lake. It's a miracle Sylvester hasn't drowned yet."

Sylvester was seriously considering it at that point.

"Sunny, must you always wear black?" Her mother sighed.

"Yes," she responded.

"But you would look so pretty in blue or maybe yellow!" Ophelia suggested desperately.

"I hate yellow."

"I should have never let your Uncle Jake hold you. Maybe then he wouldn't have dropped you and maybe then you wouldn't be so…" But Ophelia was too tearful to finish her sentence.

Sunny blinked. She had heard this rant many times.

The siblings had agreed the night before that it was probably for the best that they keep their parent's from meeting each other. There was no guarantee that everyone would make it out alive if the mothers met.

"Ahem," Mr. D called out for the crowd's attention. The throng of parents quieted.

"Welcome parents to our—uh—first Parent's Day. We hope you will take the chance to admire all of the things your little bastards—I mean wonderful offspring have accomplished. I can't tell you how much I enjoy seeing your smiling children's faces year after year. It brings me so much joy to contribute to these angels' lives and I hope you will keep returning them to us in years to come." Every word looked like it had to be strangled out of Mr. D's mouth and babies actually started to cry when they saw his plastered on smile.

"So please enjoy yourself and welcome to Camp Plan B!"

_It was going to be a long day._

So I'm not dead. For any of those who were worried. I won't flatter myself by thinking any of you would have missed me for my wonderful personality—I know you just want this story finished : ) I know it has taken me forever to update this story and I am sincerely sorry for making you wait so long.

Thank you for those sticking with it.


	9. Chapter 9

"This is why I never had children," Artemis informed, regally brushing off imaginary dust from her moonlight gown.

"Funny," Apollo said distractedly, "I was convinced it was because of the whole celibacy thing."

"Well. Yes. I suppose that was another reason," she gave a small smile. "But in the end it all worked out. Now I am one of the only ones who do not have to face a long list of exes and their offspring."

"Way to think ahead," he said snidely, quietly fidgeting with his collar.

"Styx you are awfully nervous," Artemis noted, smugly watching her brother pull at his cuffs.

"Yes, well not only will I have to deal with exes but the other gods are not exactly happy with me either. Apparently my children started a trend. From the looks I've been getting during councils I'll be lucky to get out of camp alive."

AbAbAbAbAbA

"I knew it," Martin panicked, "he's not coming."

Casey looked at her brother over a can of grape soda. "Martin. Relax."

"But he isn't here yet! Every other god is here! Why isn't he here?"

"Maybe because Parent's Day started two minutes ago."

"Dad does strike me as the type to be fashionably late," Sylvester pointed out.

"GOOD GOD WOMAN! STOP SMOTHERING ME!" Jasper shouted indignantly, struggling for his life against the death grip of his sister, Hope.

"But Jazzy I haven't seen you in forever," she complained, her mouth pouting.

"Did you ever pause to think that perhaps it was by choice?"

"Why must you say such hurtful things," she whimpered, her eyes beginning to well up.

"If you start crying I'm out of here," he informed unsympathetically.

Large tears began to spring from Hope's eyes, glimmering as they fell from her cheek.

"Good bye," Jasper nodded before turning on his heels and joining his demigod siblings. He was met by a mob of death-glares.

"What?" He asked confused.

"How do you sleep at night," Sylvester asked, disgusted.

"But I—"

"I can't even look at you," said Casey.

"Oh come on I—"

"Talk to the hand cause the face don't want to hear it," Sylvester snapped in a 'z' formation.

"Oy vey," Jasper said rubbing his head.

"Don't think talking French is going to get you out of this," Sylvester yelled.

"That wasn't—never mind."

AbAbAbAbAbA

Scout sat happily with her mother on a picnic table, the scent of her perfume mixed in with the cool wind. She had forgotten how much she missed her mother. Juliette was truly a beautiful woman in her prime but years of poor health had taken its toll.

"Thank you for coming, mama." Scout leaned her head on the woman's shoulder, enjoying the moment of perfect peace. But out of the corner of her eye she spotted a flash of blonde. She lifted her head suspiciously.

"Father?"

Immediately, the blonde god stiffened before turning around.

"Hello Scout," he nodded, his eyes shifting nervously. She frowned as she noticed the sun god sporting a baseball cap pulled low over his bright eyes.

"Father are you hiding?"

"Don't be silly," he smiled, tugging the cap lower, "just trying to avoid a few people."

"Well I hope you weren't trying to avoid me," Juliette interjected with a sad smile, "because you did a rather poor job of it."

Apollo's eyes lifted for a moment and clashed with Juliette's but he remained silent. The open camp was suddenly crowded with tension.

"Polly!" Zoe, Casey's mother, yelped wrapping him in a hug.

"Mom!" Casey whined, "Would you stop it! People are staring."

"Lord you haven't changed a bit," she laughed, shaking her head.

"Hello Zoe," he smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "I don't think you have changed much either."

"Always the smooth talker," she laughed. Kim came to stand behind her, smiling politely as she silently measured the god. "This is my partner Kim. We met a couple of months after you left."

Apollo's face turned smug. "I understand—it can be hard to go back to normal men after experiencing me but—"

"Please stop," Casey said, her face bright red.

For a moment Parent's Day was going better than the young god had expected. There was no fighting or maiming. No blood or threats of cutting off certain areas of importance. He could do this. What were a bunch of mortal women and their children against a god of pure awesomeness? He had survived Troy for Styx sakes! This was—

"_You!_"

If he was anything less than a god he would have disappeared from that spot faster than you can say 'whipped'. But he was the Sun God and he had dignity.

"Hello Claire," Apollo said carefully, turning to look at the fuming woman.

"Apollo?"

"Oh hello Millie," Apollo nodded, subconsciously taking a step back.

"Goodness gracious Apollo you still look like a teenager!" admonished Sylvester's mother, Sara, joining the growing crowd, "what kind of example does that set for our son."

"Apollo you son of a—"

"Oh Great Zeus," Apollo smiled weakly, "it seems you all managed to make it here. My personal hell is complete."

"Apollo darling," came a sultry voice near his ear. Apollo eyes moved to stare into the perfect eyes of the goddess of beauty herself. "Will you come with me for a moment? I _really_ need you."

"Who is she?" Sara asked indignantly.

"Excuse me ladies," Apollo said, quickly following his savior.

For a goddess not renowned for her power, she was quiet strong. As was demonstrated when her perfectly manicured hand shot up to drag him by his ear further down the camp.

"Ouch—Aphrodite enough!" He pleaded, all sense of dignity lost.

"Oh stop whining," she snarled in disgust. "I have a headache. Damn kids."

"I'm shocked no one ever nominated you as Mother of the Year," Apollo noted dryly, rubbing his aching ear.

"Oh ha-ha," she said haughtily. "If it weren't for your juvenile delinquents I would not have to spend a whole day with the tiny people."

"I believe they're called children."

"Whatever," she sighed, "Despite the inconvenience you have put me through I have decided to warn you that Ares is on the hunt. And I believe the term he used was "hungry for the sunny." He's no Edgar Poe but I believe he gets the point across."

AbAbAbAbAbA

"All I'm saying mother is that you did not necessarily have to try and maim the guy." Martin said, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Well perhaps it would have taught him a lesson about taking advantage of innocent little Catholic girls," his mother responded huffily, powdering her cheeks.

"Please stop," he begged. It was too late though. The mental picture of his mother in a flimsy school uniform was already burned into his brain. And oh did it burn.

"Well," Juliette sighed patiently.

"Well what?" Scout answered."Apollo?"

"No, David Bowie." Juliette rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Incredibly snazzy dresser," Scout said cheekily.

"But seriously," Juliette's smiled faded, "I've always wanted to know what you would think of him. If you would hate me for even looking at him or if perhaps you just felt indifferent of the whole thing."

"Not indifferent," she said slowly. "But not angry. I guess annoyed. I understand why he left but that does not mean I have to like it. If he is some all powerful god then how hard could it be to come visit on your own kid's birthday?"

Juliette did not answer. She just softly kissed her forehead so that her daughter could not see the tears.

AbAbAbAbAbA

"There you are, you bastard." The obvious voice of Ares hollered behind him.

"Ares," Apollo turned and nodded, showing off a hundred-watt smile. "You're looking well."

"I ought to dig out your entrails, string um around your neck and hoist you up over the tallest tree," he spat.

"My, what an imagination we have."

"I've had a long time to think about it while I was stuck talking to all the broads and brats."

"Lucky me."

"I'm gonna make you regret the first day you ever laid eyes on a dame."

"Trust me I've been regretting it for a few weeks now."

AbAbAbAbAbA

I would really like to apologize to everyone about the long wait and the fact that this chapter is not exactly of the greatest caliber. But it's better than nothing! After being forced to write essays, papers and college applications the need to write has pretty much left me. But I promise I will finish this damn story if its kills me!


End file.
